


Try to Tear Us down, We'll Rise Back Up

by SinkingLikeASunset



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amica Endurae, Communication, Conjunx Endura, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone has had a crush on Starscream at some point, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Matrix of Leadership (Transformers), Reunions, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Seeker Trines, Smut, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, True Love, canon has no power here, comics and cartoon crossover, they get to be happy okay, this is going to be super indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-09-20 13:06:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17023170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinkingLikeASunset/pseuds/SinkingLikeASunset
Summary: When the Autobots and Decepticons call a ceasefire to deal with a common enemy, Optimus makes a choice that changes everything. With the return of those thought lost or dead, tensions escalate, complications arise, and a cause is revised.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or any of the characters.
> 
> Hi guys, this is my second fic, and first in the Transformers fandom! As it says in the tags, this will be super indulgent, so it's going to be fun. And you all read the tags. I hope you guys like it.

Venting heavily, Optimus glanced around the battlefield. The tentative truce between the Autobots and Decepticons against Unicron made for an odd if familiar sight. The synchronization displayed by the two factions as they fought as one against a common enemy more than showcased how well they knew each other’s moves. It was also a bitter reminder of how things could be, how things should be. Millions of years at war and what had they to show for it? A dark, empty husk that was once their home planet, depleting energon reserves on both sides, and countless, unnecessary losses.

 

Megatron’s bellow of rage across the battlefield gave Optimus pause and it was hardly the first time. From the moment he onlined and first encountered the Decepticon leader, something pulsed within in him, just behind his spark. It had happened every time they met, and he’d eventually sought out Ratchet for an opinion. Predictably, the medic had been irate to learn that the Autobot leader had been experiencing these pulses long before he’d brought it to the CMO’s attention. He’d appeased Ratchet by volunteering for a scan and a thorough check-up. When nothing had come up, Ratchet speculated that the Matrix, which was located directly behind his spark, was the culprit. 

 

The medic grumbled about how Megatron would incur the ire of Primus if the god even existed. He still insisted on periodic scans and routine check-ups with the Prime and subtly inquired if the other bots ever experienced something similar, though nothing changed and no one reported any such experience.

 

Optimus had neglected to inform Ratchet that the pulses were always accompanied by strong feelings; a deep yearning and sorrow, and strangely enough, fondness. Optimus had spent vorns pondering the inexplicable pull he felt towards the other mech. He was his most dedicated enemy, and perhaps in kind, Optimus was his. Appallingly enough, he found that he admired Megatron and respected him, though he tried to convince himself that it was simply because of his leadership role, well that or he was glitched. Ratchet had given him a suspicious glare when he’d requested a processor check-up and offered no particular reason as to why.

 

Megatron often claimed he was weak when Optimus would gain the upper hand in battle and refuse to end him, but something always held him back. He steadfastly refused to offline the Decepticon leader and he couldn’t fathom why. The high council had instructed him on what his function as Prime included when he’d onlined, but he could not accept what they demanded of him; there was an intrinsic wrongness about it and the eagerness in their optics churned his tanks. Their sparks had been extinguished not long after the uprising when they’d barricaded themselves in the senate building; although Optimus disapproved of the excessive violence wrought upon their frames before they offlined, he was puzzled to find himself relieved.

 

Upon the next meeting between the two faction leaders, Megatron looked at him expectantly, almost hopeful, and inquired what Optimus had thought about his victory. The speech Optimus gave him tasted bland on his glossa and rang with half-truths he himself did not believe. Megatron’s expression gradually fell away and was replaced with a sneer; he drew himself up, posture rigid as energon dripped from his clenched servos. The pulses got stronger and not for the first time, Optimus found himself nearly overcome with guilt after interacting with the Decepticon. 

 

After vorns of battles with the mech, Optimus was able to decipher the look on Megatron’s faceplate, the expression in his optics that he’d displayed after he boasted about slaughtering the high council and awaited Optimus’s opinion, it was vulnerability.

 

The understanding had, of course, come at the stalemate of yet another battle when both factions had moved to retreat. The towering silver mech had glanced around the battlefield at the decimated ruins of Iacon and shuttered his optics in grief. It was a captivating sight that made his spark twist and the urge to reassure him nearly overrode his protocols. Onlining his optics, the warlord stared at the Prime with such a profound look of regret and pity that Optimus slowly retreated first, joining his team as they departed from the once prestigious city.

 

It would not be the last time Megatron looked at him in such a way, though it happened less and less as the war progressed. Often, the silver mech appeared tired beneath the bravado and for reasons he could not explain, Optimus felt compelled to soothe him. In the early stages of the war, he’d wondered if the Matrix was calling out to Megatron, if perhaps it had belonged with the Decepticon leader all along. Ratchet, of course, was quick to bash his helm with a wrench from his subspace and proceeded to lecture him for the rest of the cycle.

 

* * * *

 

“Are you glitching, Prime, or are you going to make yourself useful?” Megatron grunted, startling Optimus from his musings. The warlord had his weapons braced in front of himself, chassis heaving as he glared between the Unmaker and the leader of the Autobots.

 

“Both, I suspect,” Optimus replied, oddly calm about what he was about to do. He caught the confused look the silver mech threw at him and fond urgency moved his servos; he opened his spark chamber and reached inside. The battlefield stilled, every bot regarded him with varying looks of bafflement. He retrieved the Matrix; the shining, golden object thrummed in his servos as he absent-mindedly traced the glyphs along the thin cords of twisted metal.

 

“Optimus?” the unease in Ratchet’s voice gained his attention. His team was clearly worried. The others stared at him in awe and confusion and it registered that this was the first time many of them had seen the Matrix.

 

“It’s alright, old friend, I think,” he added, cautiously.

 

“You think!?” the grumpy CMO demanded and for a nanoklik, Optimus wasn’t convinced that a battle with Unicron, the Unmaker himself, would be enough to stop Ratchet from subspacing a wrench and denting his helm for the frustratingly vague reply.

 

Megatron was glaring at the Matrix, his red optics narrowed in displeasure. Soundwave had appeared at Megatron’s shoulder in a show of silent support and Shockwave merely stared at the Matrix, his single optic studying the object almost distrustfully. Again, it pulsed, but for the first time, there was a jolt, almost like a charge of gold lightning, it was warm and inviting though as it danced along his digits.

 

“Well, Prime,” the warlord spat, “Whatever you’re going to do, I suggest you do it.”

 

Optimus nodded and focused on the Matrix; he turned the thin metal cords until the glyphs lined up and suddenly it was engulfed in a blinding gold light, enveloping his servos. The feelings became words and memories not his own from several cycles prior to his onlining flooded his processor.

 

“Oh,” he ex vented, looking up at Megatron with such profound understanding. “He loves you, so much,” he nodded once more to himself, suddenly and finally understanding the mech’s motivation after so long.

 

The warlord shuttered his optics in shock and involuntarily reared back.

 

“What?” he rasped, suddenly unsteady on his peds, prompting Soundwave to support him.

 

Optimus gazed thoughtfully at the Matrix and pulled it apart.

 

The battlefield was bathed in the same blinding, gold light, like a solar flare, before it faded. Unicron had escaped in the ensuing confusion, but there were several more mechs present; Shockwave’s frame fell around him in pieces, revealing a smaller, much more colorful mech with two optics. Starscream stared in disbelief as the new mech glared down at his former frame and delivered a vicious kick to the darkened helm before he glanced around.

 

“—You’re all glitched!” another smaller mech who greatly resembled Optimus announced, sounding furiously appalled. He was shorter, with a lithe frame, and nowhere near equipped for battle. “And if you think for even an astrosecond that Cybertron will stand for this—” he paused when he seemed to register his new audience and looked around in confusion.

 

“Hey, why’d ya stop?” 

 

“Yeah, the boss will love this.”

 

The two mini-cons standing by the mech’s peds chimed in, though if one looked closer it was clear to see they were providing him with cover in addition to the commentary, positioned as they were. 

 

“Well this might be a stretch, but it’s probably because we’re not even on Cybertron anymore,” a blue seeker dryly pointed out.

 

“Any clue where we are then, T.C.?” A purple seeker asked good-naturedly, though his posture remained stiff. He was scoping out the area when his optics landed on a stunned Starscream and he launched himself at the red seeker with an excited yell.

 

“Screamer! You’re here! T.C.! Everything’s good, Starscream’s here.”

 

“Never thought I’d hear that sentence,” Knock Out muttered, bewildered by the blatant affection the purple flight frame was lavishing on the Decepticon second in command.

 

Starscream mechanically gathered the excitable seeker into his arms and held him. Normally the medic’s comment would’ve earned him a returned insult at the very least, but he couldn’t tear his optics away from his trine mate.

 

“Skywarp? Thundercracker?” The red seeker managed to stutter out, frantically glancing between the two flight frames.

 

“Yeah, Star? Your frame’s shaking, what’s wrong?” 

 

“I—you’re here?” he shrilly demanded, quickly losing his composure. “You’re really here?”

 

“Yes, Star, we’re here,” Thundercracker murmured, slowly approaching his distressed trine mate as Skywarp gently rubbed the trembling mech’s wings. “What’s happened? And where are we?”

 

“What is going on?” Arcee demanded, stalking forward, gun leveled at the newcomers.

 

“We were petitioning the high council—” the bot who appeared similar to Optimus began when the two mini-cons jumped into the conversation.

 

“Yeah, in the Senate building.”

 

“You know, on Cybertron, not this dusty rock of a wasteland.”

 

“So you mind telling us where we are?”

 

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the femme muttered, dragging her optics away from the cluster of new Cybertronians. “Optimus, what’s going on?”

 

“I’m not sure,” he confessed, curious himself, though oddly calm. His spark was alone in his chassis for the first time since he’d onlined and it was a strange sensation.

 

“Orion,” Megatron whispered, staring at the mech who had appeared near Optimus. His claws dug into Soundwave’s shoulder plating, a silent command for the telepath to verify if it truly was the idealistic archivist from Iacon, his conjux endura. His spark thrummed and called out for the mech across the battlefield, but he’d suffered too many hopeful delusions over the vorns not to be wary.

 

“Orion Pax: Present,” Soundwave’s deep voice confirmed, though it was clear the communication officer’s attention was focused on the two cassettes accompanying the mech.

 

“Hey! The boss is here!” the blue mini-con cheered.

 

“Hey yeah, he’ll know what’s going on,” his twin agreed.

 

“Soundwave, Megatronus,” Orion ex vented softly, posture slumping in relief. “Have we escaped?”

 

“Great, more cons,” Bulkhead sighed as Arcee narrowed her optics at her leader.

 

“Optimus, what did the Matrix tell you? Why did it summon more Decepticons here?” she pressed, before raising her gun and pointing it at the approaching warlord. “Stand down, Megatron.”

 

“This does not concern you, Autobot,” he hissed.

 

“Like slag it doesn’t.”

 

“Arcee,” Optimus warned, but she wasn’t deterred by his disapproving tone.

 

“I want answers; we deserve an explanation for whatever this is.”

 

“And perhaps we all will receive one,” Megatron growled through gritted denta.

 

“—But you will lower your weapon,” Orion demanded, frame tense as he regarded Arcee with narrowed optics.

 

She glanced at him with a confused glower on her face plate.

 

“Not a chance, Decepticon.”

 

“It would appear,” the colorful mech who emerged from Shockwave’s armor interjected, stepping forward, “we’re no longer in the presence of the high council,” he raised his servos placatingly when Arcee trained her gun on him. “However, I suspect we’re in the presence of its supporters.”

 

“I think enforcers would be a more apt term, all things considering,” the red mini-con muttered.

 

“Senator Shockwave, you’re alright!” Orion exclaimed. 

 

“Indeed, I am, Orion,” the mech assured him, offering a gentle smile.

 

“Senator?” Starscream muttered, looking to be on the verge of glitching.

 

“You’re on Earth,” Optimus supplied, before glancing at Megatron, “and the council has been extinguished.”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s true” Megatron confirmed, gazing at Orion with a soft look in his optics. “I saw to it, personally.”

 

The smaller mech closed the distance between them and cupped his face plate. 

 

“Megatronus, thank you.”

 

“Of course, sweetspark.”

 

“He slaughtered the high council, started a war, and you’re thanking him?” Arcee scoffed, incredulous.

 

“The high council were tyrants,” Megatron growled.

 

“That’s a joke coming from you.”

 

“I only ever sought equality, your precious council was content to let the caste system continue to keep us divided. A rebellion was inevitable."

 

“Megatronus has prevented the council from committing heinous acts,” Orion protested.

 

“By committing them himself? I don’t know who you all are or how you’re here or why, but we’ve been at war for millions of years and Cybertron is . . .”

 

“Millions of—that’s not possible,” Thundercracker muttered.

 

“We were only just before the council,” Orion affirmed. “Megatronus?”

 

“It has been a long time since I’ve seen you, Orion Pax, far too long.”

 

“I—I do not understand.”

 

“Perhaps we might extend our ceasefire and explain,” Optimus proposed.

 

“Yes, that would be for the best,” Shockwave cordially replied, even as he subtly positioned himself between Optimus and Orion. “However, I think it would be prudent for us to first reacquaint ourselves with each other, as much has changed.”

 

“You really expect us to let you—”

 

“That is understandable,” Optimus accepted, effectively cutting off Arcee’s protests, before addressing the Decepticon leader. “If you would be amendable, I suggest we all regroup after an orn and proceed from there.”

 

“Agreed. I trust you will choose a neutral location?”

 

“Yes.” 

“Very well then. Soundwave, bridge us back to the Nemesis.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On board the Nemesis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm so excited this has got some hits and a couple of wonderful comments, thank you so much! Here's the next chapter. Sorry for any grammatical errors, constructive criticism is welcomed. I hope you like it, I'm having so much fun with this :)

The halls of the Nemesis were dimmed, and a persistent low hum indicated that systems were operating at minimum capacity, as per the protocols for conserving the energy reserves when a majority of the crew were absent from the vessel.

 

“Knock Out, attend to our newest arrivals in the medbay,” Megatron ordered softly, giving Orion’s servos a gentle squeeze before stepping back. 

 

“Right away, my Lord,” the medic complied, ushering the group of mechs down the hall.

 

“Starscream, Soundwave, to the bridge,” he instructed when his second and third in command began trailing after them.

 

“I know exactly what my trine needs!” the seeker hissed in protest.

 

“Soundwave: capable of running diagnostics on cassettes and providing necessary repairs.”

 

“Yes, I am aware,” Megatron rolled his optics, completely unsurprised by their attitudes. “However, we have things we must do effective immediately.”

 

“And what’s so pressing that it can’t wait a nanoklik?” Starscream demanded. 

 

“Unless it’s escaped your attention, the Autobots have initiated a ceasefire, and unless they give me a reason to regret it, we shall honor it. Therefore, we must send out a message to our fellow Decepticons in light of this development; an easy but necessary task that I have the utmost confidence my communications officer can perform. We also need to navigate the Nemesis to a secure location, and I’d like to trust that my air commander can chart a simple course,” he drawled. 

 

“Orders: logical. Soundwave: will comply,” the blue mech replied.

 

“There’s also the matter of inspecting our inventory and recalculating our rations.”

 

“Ugh, delegate that to someone else,” the seeker muttered. “Very well, I will chart us a course and then no one better disturb me and my trine!” Megatron raised an optical ridge, unimpressed but unsurprised with his second in command’s whining. Starscream had always been notoriously difficult, but as he understood, a trine bond was integral to seekers; perhaps reuniting with them would help balance out the mech. 

 

Starscream was undeniably brilliant, practically a prodigy; he’d been young and idealistic when he first contacted Megatron, but he could see the vision the gladiator had for the future of Cybertron. Gaining Starscream as a follower of his cause had been just what they needed; with Vos, they stood equal with Iacon, but then the council intervened. Crucial mechs were lost, cities burned, and the loss of his trine had twisted him into a bitter, treacherous creature. Vorns passed and pleasant comradery had dwindled to nothing as resentment festered and they began to look to each other as an outlet for their rage.

 

As for Soundwave, the mech had never been anything but loyal to Megatron and the Decepticon cause. His steadfast devotion was exemplary, but before anything, he was a creator and Soundwave’s cassettes were his priority. Losing rumble and Frenzy had broken something in him, much like Starscream, but unlike the seeker, he funneled his fury and grief into a quiet, single-minded focus. 

 

“The sooner you both get on with your assigned tasks, the sooner they will be complete,” he tiredly pointed out, pinching the bridge of his olfactory sensor.

 

“And what exactly will you be doing?” his second in command haughtily demanded.

 

“Just do as I’ve ordered, Starscream.”

 

“Four million years, Leader, that’s how long I’ve been without my trine, and Soundwave without two of his brats.”

 

“And I without my conjux endura.”

 

The seeker’s optics widened in shock and he floundered. 

 

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you at a loss for words,” the Decepticon leader dryly remarked.

 

“You’re bonded? You? Who would ever—um…” 

 

“This may surprise you, but I’ve asked myself that many times.”

 

The abrupt awkwardness was excruciating. Normal interactions between the explosive pair consisted of threats and insults, lectures and lies, but sincere honesty and playful quips? Practically nonexistent. 

 

“Soundwave: proceeding with communication to Decepticon troops,” the mech announced, walking down the hall to the bridge. “Suggestion: complete tasks and return to medbay.”

 

“I suppose he has a point,” Starscream muttered.

 

“Indeed, he does.” 

 

“There’s just one thing I don’t understand, Leader.”

 

“Of course, there is,” he vented, wondering why he was even surprised.

 

“You seem so… hesitant.”

 

Megatron hummed, mulling over his second in command’s careful probing. There was genuine curiosity in his voice, no hostility or mockery in his tone; they were actually managing to have a civil conversation. 

 

“Finding a way to explain the past four million years and therefore the state of our planet isn’t exactly easy.”

 

“Hmph, you’ve always excelled at captivating an audience with pretty words and by speaking the truth, just stick with that. There, problem solved; now, if my illustrious leader will excuse me, I’ve got to go chart a course so I may see my trine,” the seeker huffed before stalking off toward the navigation console. 

 

Megatron shook his helm and made his way to the lower levels where the inventory was located. He could’ve easily ordered someone else to do it, the inventory was logged in on the terminal outside of the storage rooms, and updated after each ration dispense and adjusted accordingly after every mission. The task only required a simple recalculation to determine the new ration distribution, but he needed a moment. His spark ached and called out for Orion, as it always had, and now he was here.

 

How was he to even being explaining himself to Orion? How could he possibly atone for becoming what they had fought so hard against? The former gladiator had ignited a revolution in pursuit of equality, and when his conjux was taken from him, he raged a war in revenge.

 

* * * * 

 

“Well, you all seem to be functioning just fine, a little low on energon, but otherwise everything seems to check out,” Knock Out announced, looking over the scans. “Now, while we await our orders, Breakdown will fetch you all a cube.”

 

As the blue and orange mech made his way to the dispenser, Orion gravitated to Shockwave, who’s requested a processor exam.

 

“Senator Shockwave, are you sure you’re alright?” he fussed.

 

“Orion, as I always insist, and especially now, considering our circumstances, call me Shockwave.”

 

“Apologies,” he chuckled lightly, squeezing the other mech’s servos.

 

“It’s quite alright, my friend. And I’m just taking precautions; I have no idea what the council had planned for me in that armor. My processor is clear, but I’d still prefer to verify that’s the case and that there’s nothing...”

 

“Of course, Shockwave. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

 

“Yes, and it would seem we have your gladiator to thank for that, I do look forward to meeting him, officially.”

 

Orion ducked his helm shyly, smiling at the mention on his conjux. 

 

“As do I,” Megatron announced as he stepped inside the medbay, followed by Starscream and Soundwave. The seeker practically flew over to his trine, and the blue and purple flight frames fussed over him, while the twin cassettes stumbled over to the communications officer, and clung to his peds. Soundwave swiftly knelt and gathered them against his chassis. 

 

“Megatronus!” Orion exclaimed, racing into his arms.

 

“Hello, sweetspark.” His claws delicately traced the smaller mech’s face plates. He could faintly hear Knock Out complaining to Breakdown about the dust caked to his frame and the seekers clicking in their Vosian dialect, but he couldn’t pull his optics away from his conjux endura. “You’re here,” he marveled.

 

“I am, but, what is going on? You said—you said you hadn’t seen me in a long time, but we were only just at the senate building, and now we’re not even on Cybertron. Four million years?” 

 

Hardly believing he was going to follow Starscream’s advice, Megatron vented softly and spoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: On board the Nemesis and communication


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orion fanboys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading my indulgent little fic! Thank you for commenting and the kudos! Apologies for any grammar errors. Smut is at the end of the chapter!

“…Oh.” The medbay was uncharacteristically silent save for Orion’s subdued response.

 

“It’s hardly a satisfactory explanation, I know,” Megatron acknowledged, trying to appease his unsettled conjunx. “But that is the general overview of what’s happened and why we’re not on Cybertron presently. I am sorry, Orion,” he softly added. 

 

“No, no, Megatronus, this is on the council,” the smaller mech insisted, shaking his helm. “Everything always seems to lead back to them. I hope you dropped them in a smelter for everything they caused,” he muttered, blue optics blazing.

 

Knock Out gave a low whistle, before focusing his attention back on his own dusty frame.

 

“I’m inclined to agree with Orion,” Shockwave muttered, a dark look in his optics.

 

“We stormed into the senate building where they’d barricaded themselves and I ripped out their sparks out. Their frames were left to rust in the rubble that was once the senate building.” 

 

“Ooh tell us that’s what happened, Star!” the purple seeker excitedly asked, wrapped around his trine mate.

 

“Indeed,” he confirmed, red optics gleaming as he recalled the assault on the senate building. “I orchestrated the airstrike myself and watched as it burned and collapsed in on itself.”

 

“You’re Starscream.”

 

The red seeker whipped his helm around at Orion’s statement.

 

“Yes,” he affirmed, curious as to why Megatron’s conjunx—and he still couldn’t wrap his processor around that—had addressed him. He hadn’t recalled meeting the smaller mech before and was further puzzled when the lithe grounder excitedly turned to Megatron, almost giddily shaking the former gladiator’s shoulder. 

 

“Megatronus, that’s—that’s Starscream! The Prince of Vos!” he exclaimed.

 

“Yes, I’m aware,” came the dry response.

 

The red seeker preened at the mention of one of his most prized titles.

 

“You’ve heard of me?” he smirked, delighted by the reception. It had been so long since he’d been addressed with his proper title and greeted with such sincere enthusiasm for no other reason than just meeting him.

 

“Who hasn’t? You’re brilliant!” Orion gushed. “I’m—I was an archivist in Iacon and had the privilege to read some of your articles.” 

 

“Oh?” Starscream’s wings fluttered in excitement and he drew closer to the lithe mech. “Which ones?”

 

“Oh, mostly your scientific dissertations on biological studies, and of course your political views, though your nuclear fusion theories were brilliant.”

 

“You really think so?” he asked, wings quivering in delight at the praise.

 

“Of course!”

 

“Well, I was able to develop a fully functional fusion cannon. I’d gifted it to Megatron, in fact,” he proudly announced, red optics gleaming.

 

“You did!?” Orion giddily exclaimed before turning to his amused conjunx. “He did?”

 

“He did.”

 

Starscream rolled his optics when nothing more followed the simple affirmation of his accomplishment. “Well? Bring it out and show it to him,” he ordered, “I’ll probably need to do some maintenance on it and perhaps some upgrades are in order.” 

 

“How uncharacteristically magnanimous of you,” Megatron drawled, retrieving the fusion cannon from his subspace and handing it to the mech. 

 

“Oh please, if it weren’t for me your weapons systems would be outdated, rusted husks of their former glory,” the seeker huffed. 

 

Thundercracker and Skywarp traded fond looks as their trine mate fussed over the impressive weapon, proudly pointing out the different components and explaining how the mechanisms operated to the fascinated archivist. 

 

“How did you even contact him let alone arrange a meeting?” Orion addressed his conjunx, sounding awed.

 

“I was actually the one who sought him out,” Starscream confessed. “His writings had quite the profound effect, especially when it made its way into, shall we say, a more influential circulation.”

 

“He is brilliant,” the archivist murmured, gazing adoringly at the towering silver mech. “Such a poet.”

 

“He does have a way with words,” Starscream grudgingly acknowledged.

 

“Well, he does speak from the spark, though a lot of inspiration for his diction actually came from you, oh, but you know that of course,” Orion laughed.

 

The red seeker frozen and locked optics with Megatron.

 

“Oh?” he coyly inquired, raising an optical ridge as Megatron glowered at him.

 

“Starscream is clearly enthralled with his self-appointed task, Orion,” the former gladiator hastily muttered. “My fusion cannon is his most prized experiment, it’s best we allow him to focus all of his attention on it.”

 

“Nonsense,” the second in command insisted, a sharp grin sliding onto his face plate. “The maintenance is routine at best and by now I can perform the upgrades with my optics offline. I am so enjoying our conversation, and besides, it would be remiss of me not to put forth an effort to get to know my leader’s conjunx. Now then, Orion, what was it you were saying about me influencing mighty Megatron?”

 

“I will bridge you to ocean floor,” the silver mech growled through gritted denta.

 

“But then where would you get your inspiration? Not that your speeches as of late have been particularly rousing, so don’t foist the credit for those onto me.”

 

“Perhaps an active volcano would suffice.”

 

Starscream gave an uneasy chuckle as he inched back towards his trine. Orion smiled and shook his helm fondly.

 

“I just knew the two of you would be great friends.”

 

Knock Out laughed, loud and incredulous as he worked on polishing his frame. 

 

“Something amuses you, Knock Out?” Megatron growled, piercing red optics glaring harshly at the medic. The red mech froze, suddenly aware of the scrutiny he was under and fumbled with his cleaning cloth as he tried to formulate an appropriate response. 

 

“It’s the um—the dust, lord Megatron,” Breakdown swiftly answered for his petrified conjunx. “His frame is trying to purge the irritant and er—venting helps?”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Megatronus,” his conjunx playfully chided, tugging him back around by the servo. “There’s no reason for you to be embarrassed. You started a revolution; you have so much ambition, and you never fail to strive for what you believe in.”

 

“Indeed,” Shockwave agreed. “I follow—followed, hm, that will be an adjustment—I followed the news feeds and you were practically all Orion talked about.”

 

“He spoke of me?”

 

“Often and highly. My dear Amica gushed about you,” Shockwave smirked, winding an arm around Orion’s shoulders. “He’d often barge into my office and relay what you’d said in your clandestine meetings and rousing speeches. Our views aligned on quite a few issues.”

 

“Orion had mentioned a close friend of his was a senator.”

 

“I am—or was, I suppose. And aside from this hideous outcome, it sounded like you had a true vision of what Cybertron could become

 

“Megatron’s vision: still viable,” Soundwave commented.

 

Orion walked up to the dark blue mech and bowed his helm. 

 

“Soundwave, I’m sorry I couldn’t protect your cassettes from the council.”

 

“Hey! We were there to protect you!” Frenzy exclaimed.

 

“Yeah, the boss sent us there with you,” Rumble echoed his twin’s protests.

 

“Cassettes: correct. Orion Pax: valuable to Decepticon cause, protection necessary. Orion Pax: has been missed,” Soundwave insisted, holding his arms out.

 

The smaller mech smiled shyly and melted into the offered hug.

 

“How’s your conjunx?”

 

“Infiltrating Autobot ranks.”

 

“What? Wait, you’re bonded?” Starscream screeched in disbelief, absently handing the fusion cannon back to Megatron.

 

“Affirmative.”

“Care to elaborate?” the seeker scoffed. 

 

“Negative.”

 

“Soundwave’s conjunx holds a precarious position, Starscream, we don’t want to compromise it,” the silver mech explained, subspacing his weapon.

 

“Hm, I take it you are not anticipating our ceasefire will last?”

 

“It’s highly unlikely.”

 

“Why?” Orion inquired and Megatron’s gaze softened as he regarded the smaller mech.

 

“We’ve been at war for millions of years, sweetspark, a temporary ceasefire is unlikely to alleviate hostility on either side.”

 

“Why not propose a peace treaty then?”

 

“It does seem like the most appropriate course of action at this junction,” Thundercracker commented. “At least, politically, it would be the wisest maneuver,” he looked to his trine leader who nodded approvingly.

 

“It would be a tactical advantage to be the party to suggest it, to lay the groundwork, so to speak, for what everyone’s been fighting for,” Starscream elaborated. “Prime will go for it; those under his command will respect his decision, and the importance of working together to fight the Unmaker will outweigh any petty grievances either side may harbor. It’s a start at least,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

 

“It’s brilliant,” Shockwave commented. 

 

“I must agree. A quite impressive ploy, Starscream. The terms of an official treaty will have to be discussed with Prime, but it’s something.”

 

The seeker preened at the unexpected praise and glanced back at his trine mates to see them beaming at him with pride.

 

“Optimus Prime,” Orion murmured, prompting Rumble and Frenzy to return to his side.

 

“It’ll be okay, boss’ll be there this time,” the small red and black cassette assured him.

 

“Orion Pax: apprehensive about meeting with Autobot leader?” Soundwave inquired, perplexed by the drop in the lithe mech’s mood as well as the somber atmosphere surrounding his cassettes.

 

“I—I’ve seen him before or his frame I suppose. He—it was at the council meeting. They said that they would transfer my spark into his empty frame, that-that they would program the processor and the matrix would rewrite my spark signature,” his frame trembled as he recounted the events that for him had only just happened.

 

“Yeah,” Rumble muttered, “how was he even online?”

 

“I suspect that’s something only he can answer; his insight will likely prove invaluable” Megatron said, coaxing Orion into his arms. “The council is dead, and they can never get their servos on you again,” he promised, pulling the smaller mech into a protective embrace.

 

“I suspect they achieved something similar with me, if stepping out of a frame not my own is any indication,” Shockwave sighed, looking over at the medic. “I would prefer a thorough check up along with that processor examination.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Will you be alright, Shockwave?”

 

“I’m confident I shall be, Orion, I’m just taking precautions and I suspect all this has been equally taxing on you, my dear friend. Reacquaint yourself with your bonded and by the next orn we’ll hopefully have the answers to our questions.”

 

“You really do have the glossa of senator,” Starscream remarked.

 

“I’ve always been told I was far too sentimental to be a politician, not logical enough,” the colorful mech chuckled, settling himself on a medical berth.

 

“And I’m going to suffer a processor glitch worthy to rival one of Red Alert’s,” the seeker muttered. “Orion, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, I look forward to talking with you more. Megatron, my trine and I will be retiring to my quarters,” he informed the Decepticon leader, before exiting the medbay.

 

“I suggest we follow suit, make the most of our time.”

 

Soundwave nodded and gazed down at his cassettes, “Rumble, Frenzy: Return.”

 

* * * *

 

Megatron watched adoringly as Orion curiously inspected his quarters, gravitating to a shelf that held several sentimental trinkets. He retrieved a weathered data pad and held it reverently in his servos.

 

“It’s the first data pad I ever got for you,” he whispered.

 

“It is.”

 

“You kept it?” his vocalizer hitched. “Four million years of war, and you kept it all this time?”

 

“Of course, I did,” Megatron said, gently tracing his face plate.

 

“How could it have been so long?”

 

“Something I suspect we’ll find out. For now, would you permit me to just hold you?” he requested.

 

“Yes, of course, Megatronus, you never have to ask.”

 

“I,” the warlord paused and vented softly, “I have done many things, Orion, great and terrible things. I would not have us spark merge until you’ve learned of everything and decide for yourself whether I’m worthy of you.”

 

“You are my conjunx endura,” Orion said firmly. “I will always love and accept you. You were a miner and a gladiator, a poet and politician, a revolutionary and a leader; perhaps it is I who is unworthy of you.”

 

“Hardly," he scoffed in disbelief. "You are my intrepid little archivist, who braved Kaon just to speak to a gladiator who craved a place for himself above his station.” 

 

Orion laced their digits together and tugged Megatron down onto the berth.

 

“Well, I would love it if my gladiator with his ambitious visions of the future would hold me.”

 

Megatron smiled and arranged them on his berth, curing his broad frame around the smaller mech’s.

 

“I fear if I offline my optics you’ll disappear, that all of this has been nothing more than a hallucination,” he confessed, voicing his reluctance to recharge. “I can’t lose you again.”

 

“You won’t, just as I won’t lose you,” Orion spoke with conviction, resting his helm on Megatron’s chassis, above his spark chamber. “There, that’s settled,” he said, causing Megatron to laugh.

 

“Is that so?” he asked, a teasing smile evident in his voice.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then it is.” 

 

* * * * 

 

As soon as Starscream stepped into his quarters, Skywarp and Thundercracker backed their trembling trine mate to his berth and gently guided him down. Their servos never left his frame, sweeping along the sides of his chassis, and gliding across white wings. He keened as clever digits teasingly traced the sensitive seams of his lower plating. His cooling fans switched on as they continued meticulously mapping out his frame.

 

“We’ll take care of you,” Thundercracker murmured, smirking slightly as the red seeker shyly averted his optics. “What’s wrong, Star? It’s just us.”

 

“I—It’s just been so long and—” his vocalizer hitched as Skywarp teased his interface panel, heel struts digging into the berth as he canted his hips up, seeking friction.

 

“It’s alright, Star,” the purple mech cooed, servos gliding up and down his legs too lightly to just be a soothing gesture. “Your pleasure is our pleasure.”

 

“That’s right. And right now, that’s all we’re going to focus on,” Thundercracker said softly, stroking Starscream’s quivering wings. 

 

“We’re going to make you overload again and again until you forget your designation,” Skywarp vowed.

 

“Well so far you’re all talk, so get on with it or I’ll take care of myself!” the smallest of the seekers huffed, squirming impatiently.

 

“Well, that would be a treat to see,” the teleporter easily agreed, continuing to tease along his thigh plating. “But we want to spoil you.”

 

“Warp’s right,” Thundercracker hummed, gazing fondly down at the red seeker. “You’re our Star; you’ve worked so hard and accomplished so much, and we’re so proud of you. Let us spoil you?” he leaned down and affectionately pressed their helms together.

 

“Please,” he rasped, twisting and arching as his trine mates explored his frame. His interface panel slid open and he mewled as they teased his valve, already slick with lubricants. “Oh, please, please, please!”

 

“Now if that isn’t the prettiest sound,” Skywarp cooed, pushing into him, while Thundercracker held him and mapped out his sensitive wings. Starscream keened as the pleasure continued to build up and desperately clung to them as his frame tensed and he finally overloaded. 

 

His cooling fans kicked on as his systems rebooted and he onlined his optics to see his trine mates gazing tenderly down at him. His vocalizer hitched as he was hit with a sudden surge of raw emotions. Coolant spilled down his face plate as reached for them. Logically, he knew they were there; he could see them, hear them, the bond practically sang of their presence, but he needed to hold them. They happily obliged, allowing Starscream to maneuver them around on his berth so his back was to the door, curled against Thundercracker, with Skywarp facing the wall.

 

“You’re here, you’re both here,” he murmured softly.

 

“We’re here,” the blue seeker promised, squeezing his servo.

 

“Well, I’m still aware of my designation, you’ll just have to do better next time,” Starscream groggily informed them before dropping off into recharge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> Next Time: The Autobots


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Speculations and introspection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait, and thank you so much for the comments and kudos and just taking a glance at this! Please excuse any grammar errors and please enjoy!

“Are we just going to ignore what happened back there?” Arcee demanded, glaring expectantly up at Optimus as the ground bridge closed behind them.

 

“I’m not sure what happened,” he confessed.

 

“Well, why not start with that?” Bulkhead suggested, gesturing to the matrix.

 

Optimus glanced down at the relic in his servos. The two halves of the Matrix of Leadership were now dull gold, seemingly drained of the power it once held.

 

“I suspect this played quite a substantial part in many things.”

 

“Doesn’t the Matrix of Leadership have some connection with Primus?” Bumblebee inquired. 

 

“That’s what they say,” Ratchet drawled, retrieving a medical scanner from his subspace.

 

“So, is that what happened? You pulled the Matrix out and Primus intervened?” the green wrecker guessed.

 

“Unicron may have vanished, but that doesn’t explain why those other Decepticons just appeared,” Arcee pointed out.

 

“That I do not know. I have no recollection of those mechs,” Optimus murmured, before complying with the CMO’s silent command to stand still as he performed a scan.

 

““You’re positive?” Ratchet pressed, as he studied the results.

 

“Yes.”

 

The red and white bot ex vented heavily, subspacing the medical instrument.

 

“Everything checks out alright, Optimus,” he muttered distractedly.

 

“You look pensive, old friend.”

 

“I suppose I am, the readings make sense now.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Orion Pax. Your spark’s signature is remarkably like his. It’s so similar, in fact, that when you emerged from the Council’s chambers, I was convinced that you were him. Well, him with an upgraded frame, designation, and a new philosophy,” the CMO sighed, retrieving two cubes of high grade from his subspace and offered one to Optimus. “Tell me, have you experienced any pulses in your spark chamber since… all this?”

 

The Leader of the Autobots paused and was startled to find that, for the first time in millions of years, there were no inexplicable pulses; there were no confusing, longing, or inexplicably complex feelings for Megatron or the Decepticons. It was puzzling to say the least.

 

“No, I have not. Are you suggesting—”

 

“I’m not even considering anything until I’ve finished my high grade and had another.”

 

“Are—are you okay, Ratchet?” Bumblebee asked.

 

Draining his cube, the CMO vented heavily and ran a servo over his faceplate. “I’m not sure,” he huffed. “Frankly, we won’t learn anything until we talk with Orion and the Decepticons. What I do suggest, is broadcasting the ceasefire to our fellow Autobots and maybe contacting your second in command, Primus knows we could use Prowl’s levelheadedness in this situation. And get some recharge,” he added almost as an afterthought, before exiting the rec room. 

 

* * * *

 

Optimus sent out the broadcast message and contacted Prowl. His report was vague, but the Praxian enforcer graciously accepted the minimalistic details and compiled a list of Autobots that would accompany him to Earth. The black and white mech assured him that they would bridge to the base after alerting the selected bots and gathering additional supplies, though it might not be until the following day before they bridged to Earth. Not that Optimus wasn’t pleased to welcome more Autobots or grateful that their dangerously dwindling resources were about to be replenished, but the reprieve it would grant him from dealing with anyone, even if it was just a joor or two, was a relief. 

 

Ending the transmission, Optimus glanced around the rec room, unsurprised to see that he was alone. To say that it had been an eventful day would be an understatement and he suspected that his team needed some time to process everything and truthfully, so did he.

 

Rather than retreating to his quarters or lingering in the empty rec room, Optimus chose to sequester himself away in one of the rocky outcroppings outside the base. It was secluded and cloaked in darkness by the night sky. He’d always been more comfortable with places he could easily slip into and disappear for a while. Touching a servo to his spark chamber, he wondered if it was one of his own developed quirks or if it was an inclination of Orion’s that he inherited.

 

The small mech both bewildered and fascinated the Autobot Leader. He had so many questions and no clear way to approach him; Optimus was not oblivious to the fearful looks Orion had thrown his way, though he could not fathom why. He was a large bot, yes, nearly as tall and broad as Megatron, but he did not consider himself terribly intimidating. Perhaps it was his status as a Prime? Many religious Cybertronians, Autobot and Decepticon alike, revered the title and therefore maintained a respective distance from him. But there was no awed expression Orion’s faceplate when he regarded Optimus. Orion was already wary of the Autobot faction and clearly despised the council, as well as those affiliated with it; he only hoped the small mech would listen, and perhaps even grant Optimus the opportunity to have a conversation with him that went beyond planning Unicron’s defeat.

 

Truthfully, Optimus was unsure of his place in the grand scheme of things. Of course, he would lead the Autobots when they faced Unicron as any leader should, but once that battle was over? He could hardly fathom the war continuing after this junction, even with all the atrocities committed, energon spilled and bitter resentment between the factions, it just seemed pointless. Cybertron needed leadership to usher in a new era, but Optimus wasn’t too keen on volunteering for such a position. Perhaps everyone would expect him to, or even insist, but he found the notion discomfiting. 

 

Explaining everything that had occurred to the Autobots slated to arrive along with his second in command without even having all the facts would not doubt be convoluted and processor-ache inducing. Optimus respected all of the bots under his command, but he could not offer them a logical explanation for what transpired on the battlefield and it was imperative he convince them to honor the temporary truce with the Decepticons. He dreaded the impending clash of personalities and stared up at the stars. Perhaps the best thing about Earth, was the view of the sky; the vast expanse of darkness that proudly showcased nebulas and shimmering galaxies stretching out as far as the optic could see. 

 

Usually, he would seek out Ratchet’s council, but ever since the battle with Unicron, the CMO had been distant, suspicious even. Under normal circumstances, Optimus would’ve chalked it up to the medic being ornery about the direct challenge to his beliefs; Ratchet was notoriously non-religious and being presented with the Chaos Bringer himself would certainly cause the mech ire on mere principle, but it was clearly something else. In the four million years he’d known Ratchet, the medic had never shied away from voicing his opinion, but he was reluctant to approach Optimus, especially after confirming the similarity between his spark signature and Orion’s. It raised so many questions, leaving Optimus unsettled and unsure if he really wanted to know the answers.

 

“Hey, Optimus!” Bumblebee’s cheerful greeting snapped him out of his thoughts, and he glanced down at the scout. The small, yellow bot perched himself next to the Autobot Leader and gazed up at the sky. “It sure is a nice night.”

 

“It is, indeed, Bumblebee. Apologies, I was unaware I was encroaching on your stargazing spot.”

 

“Oh, no, not at all. I was shadowing you.”

 

“I see,” Optimus murmured, bemused by the scout’s nonchalant straight-forwardness. “I’m sure Jazz will be pleased with your success.”

 

“You think so?” he beamed, and Optimus smiled at his infectious enthusiasm. Bumblebee was one of the youngest soldiers in the war, and Jazz’s pupil. The Spec Ops bot was swift to step into the role of a mentor and Bumblebee flourished under his teachings. His third-in-command had become quite protective of his student and their impending separation hadn’t sat well with him. It was one of the only times Optimus had seen the mech truly contend with a command decision. Jazz had his own infiltration mission to complete and Optimus needed a scout. Jazz informed Bumblebee that he would be checking in whenever possible, demanded to be updated on his student’s well-being through reports that would be sent directly to Prowl and glared at Optimus like an overprotective sire.

 

The mech’s behavior baffled the Autobot Leader, but Prowl had explained the nature of mentor-student relationships; pride, patience, and fear, eclipsed only by protectiveness and affection, citing First Aid’s apprenticeship under Ratchet and even the enforcer’s own mentorship to his younger brother, Bluestreak. Of course, meeting Bumblebee had reinforced Optimus’s understanding of the situation.

 

“I do,” he affirmed, placing a servo on the bot’s shoulder. “May I inquire as to why you were shadowing me? I contacted Prowl and he assures me that Jazz will be accompanying him to Earth.”

 

“Oh, I already know all that, I was checking on you, Sir.”

 

“You were?”

 

“Of course, it was a pretty intense battle today and, well…”

 

“Yes, it was quite eventful, but I can’t offer an explanation for what happened and as for the Matrix…”

 

“I’m sure we’ll find out everything tomorrow when we meet up with the Decepticons,” Bumblebee easily assured him. “Hmm, that sure felt strange to say,” he joked, eliciting another small smile from Optimus.

 

“Indeed, though hopefully it will become more common as time progresses.”

 

“So, do you anticipate our tentative truce lasting after we defeat Unicron?”

 

“I can’t yet say, though I hope it does.”

 

“Yeah,” Bumblebee vented softly, returning his gaze to the night sky. “It sure would be nice to return home.”

 

“Yes, it would. You should return to your quarters for some recharge.”

 

“Nah, I think I’ll hang out here with you a while, Sir, can’t have Jazz thinking I’m slacking,” he playfully winked and Optimus hummed in amusement, choosing to go along with the scout’s carefully phrased request. Ratchet’s suggestion that everyone recharge hadn’t technically been an order and, the CMO seemed far too distracted to even muster up the energy to act like his usual exasperated self. And frankly, Optimus was grateful for the company and thought it best to enjoy the tranquility while it lasted.

 

* * * *

 

Rumble and Frenzy lounged on the berth as they slowly rebooted. Energetic as the two were, they fell into recharge not long after returning to Soundwave’s quarters the previous night. Soundwave gazed fondly down at them as their optics onlined and they stretched; he’d already retrieved rations for the three of them as they were scheduled to meet with the Autobots in a cycle and the Tape Deck wanted his Cassettes refueled and alert. It was more of a precaution born from millions of years of war as opposed to a genuine suspicion that the Autobots would orchestrate an ambush. Neither faction could risk nullifying the ceasefire for the sake of satisfying petty grievances.

 

Rumble and Frenzy shared a cube of energon as Soundwave, having received the Autobots’ proposed coordinates, sent out a ping to the command staff. It was all so startlingly domestic and yet such a familiar routine, one that he so easily fell back into. Once they finished their ration, he ushered them into the wash racks for a quick rinse. 

 

Soundwave curled his servos around the twin Cassettes, inspecting their small frames once more as he polished their plating. 

 

“C’mon Boss, we’re fine, you already checked us for damage,” Rumble muttered before obliging with the communication officer’s silent command to spin around. He squeaked suddenly, and squirmed, laughing as the blue mech’s digits prodded sensitive seams and joints. Frenzy echoed his spark twin’s protests, erupting into laughter as he curled in on himself.

 

“No, no! Stop!” the red mechling hiccupped helplessly.

 

“Negative,” Soundwave declined. “Files: require updating.”

 

“W-what files?” Rumble snorted, spasming as the persistent digits playfully inspected his frame.

 

“Audio files. Voice analysis and confirmation: necessary. Recordings of laughter: required to be updated and downloaded into processor core,” he added after a hesitant pause, prompting the Cassettes to trade confused looks. Though they’d been present for Megatron’s brief overview of the war, the four-million-year time jump hadn’t quite sunk in. From their perspective, they had only just seen Soundwave before escorting Orion into the Senate building to stand before the Council.

 

“Carrier?” 

 

Soundwave froze, spark leaping at the title, and he gathered the Cassettes to his chassis. Still giggling, they instinctively cuddled up against his spark chamber. Rumble tugged his younger twin into his arms and looked up at Soundwave.

 

“We’re here.”

 

“You are,” the communications officer murmured, delicately tracing their faceplates.

 

“So, you maybe wanna open the bond?” Frenzy murmured, snuggling up to his brother.

 

“Yeah, boss, why is the bond blocked? We’re not undercover or anything.”

 

Soundwave vented softly and sat down on the berth. It had been so long since he’d felt his bond with the twin Cassettes. When he’d lost them, there was an emptiness in him, a void that couldn’t be filled, so he blocked it. His spark thrummed in hopeful anticipation at the innocent suggestion.

 

“Once our meeting with the Autobots has concluded,” he said decisively. Although Soundwave would love nothing more than to reestablish the bond, it was not something he would without his conjunx there and—his conjunx! How could he have forgotten? Should he prepare him? It was a staggering revelation, but they couldn’t afford distractions at this junction; even with their bond, it would be hard to explain and doing so over monitored comms, while not impossible, just didn’t feel right. Venting softly, he nuzzled his Cassettes, who happily endured the affection, and started toward the command center. The communications officer needed to keep himself busy and make all of the final preparations for their meeting with the Autobots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I hoped you guys liked it, Optimus was pretty introspective this chapter and I hope Bumblebee was okay. Let me know what you guys think and have a great day, until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like it so far! Tried to make sure I'm usuing the proper terminology. I'm nervous but I love this fandom so much! and any comments or kudos would be greatly appreciated! Thank You :)
> 
> Next Time: On board the Nemesis


End file.
